He was sitting by himself on the end of the very front row in the room where I was scheduled to speak. I had arrived early to ensure my power point presentation worked at the venue so was preoccupied at first. But then when I had to wait for a staff member to assist, this gentleman and I started to chat. I had already noticed how isolated he seemed to be—and soon I also noticed he was attached to an oxygen machine on his wheelchair.
I cannot remember how our conversation actually began, but it was not long before he told me, a complete stranger, that his wife of sixty-three years had passed away a few months earlier. Then his eyes quickly filled with tears.
‘However much we think we’re prepared for times like this,’ he whispered, ‘it is much, much worse. The pain is terrible. I’m just glad I didn’t go before she did—I wouldn’t have wanted her to experience such pain.’
By then, I was holding his hand. Still with tears in his eyes, he told me how his wife had battled cancer for sixteen years and we talked about how good it was that they had had those extra years together. My heart went out to him—what more could I say? We were in a secular setting and I knew nothing about him.
In the end, after asking him his name, I told him how my husband and I have been in church ministry for a long time and that I would pray for him. I was unsure how he would react but, in an instant, his face lit up with a lovely, grateful smile and he squeezed my hand. In any other setting, I would have prayed out loud for him but had to be content with a quick, silent prayer instead.
A little later, we chatted briefly again and, when he saw some slides in my presentation showing scenes from various ruins in Turkey, he told me he had been a tiler and potter. This gave me the opportunity to include him later as I spoke and he smiled and nodded when I did. Afterwards, I had no chance to catch up with him again. But I hoped he had enjoyed my presentation and that both it and the interaction we had had went some small way towards comforting him in his grief and obvious loneliness.
We do not have to look far, do we, to find lonely people around us? Some may also be carrying heavy burdens of grief like this man—a grief that needs to be shared and listened to with empathy. As this man has come to mind, I continue to pray for him, especially that he will have family and friends around him who understand and have time to listen. But, above all, I pray he will know God’s deep comfort in his own latter years and know too that he is never truly alone with God by his side, just as King David declared long ago. And may we each experience the truth of these words in our own lives too.
Even though I walk
through the darkest valley,
I will fear no evil,
for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me. Psalm 23:4 NLT
Jo-Anne Berthelsen's Blog 